Breathe Again
by Crittab
Summary: When he'd fallen back on the couch not three minutes after dragging himself out of bed, Jeff realized he just didn't want to get back up again. So he didn't. M/Complete


**Disclaimer: I don't own Community... homie don't dean this.**

**Breathe Again**

He didn't want to be this way. This morning when he woke up, he had fully intended on getting dressed, looking 'unintentionally handsome,' and heading into Greendale like every other day. But for some reason, instead of carrying him to his closet to choose an outfit, his feet had carried him here, to his couch, where he'd fallen back onto the soft cushions and allowed himself to sink into them.

Sure, he knew he looked like a moron as he rolled onto his side and pulled himself into what could only be described as 'foetal position,' but between the soft back of the couch against him, and the cushions supporting his mammoth frame, he couldn't be bothered to care.

To be honest, these days, he could be bothered to care about much of anything. School, the study group, consulting—it was all just something he did when he wasn't doing what he really wanted to do, which was sleep. All he wanted to do was sleep. Getting up in the morning had become an almost unbearable task for him, and he really couldn't account for why that was.

He loved his friends. They made him laugh, they included him in their fun, and they were always up to something ridiculous. He didn't even really mind studying if it meant he could do it with them. But then, studying also meant being close to _her_, and not being able to say or do anything that he wanted to do with her. As much as the group freed him of his long-held inhibitions, _being_ in the group forced him to hold back on the one thing he wanted to do the most.

So when he'd fallen back on the couch not three minutes after dragging himself out of bed, he realized he just didn't want to get back up again. And so he didn't.

He closed his eyes tightly against the sun as it rose outside the window. He tried to ignore the way the heat in the room changed as the day wore on, going from cool, to very warm, and then cooling again. He tried to ignore the way the room became hazy with dusk, and then pitch with darkness, the only light coming from the clock on his cable box telling him he'd been laying on that couch for more than 14 hours.

He would have been impressed if he wasn't so pathetic.

And it wasn't as if he hadn't heard his phone buzzing from his bedroom on and off all day. He had—14 times, if his count was correct. Of course, he'd only really started counting after the third or fourth time. He pictured each member of the study group sending him texts to inquire about his absence. Britta would be judgemental, Shirley would be concerned, Pierce would question his sexuality, and Troy and Abed would seek to confirm his attendance at their upcoming Inspector Spacetime party (which he'd already declined four times).

Annie though... well... she was a crapshoot. She could be concerned—as she often was when it seemed a group member was sick or otherwise out-of-sorts. She could also be trying to reprimand him for missing classes, or reminding him of an assignment that was due.

Other times she'd just say, "Missed you today," and make his heart beat faster, and then sink deeper into his chest.

He sunk deeper into the cushions when he thought of Annie.

And even deeper the next time he thought of her.

If he was being honest with himself, he'd admit that he thought of her more than he probably should—more than he thought of, say, Abed, or even Britta.

He closed his eyes tightly and willed sleep to come once more, as it had sporadically over the course of the day.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when there was a knock on the door—an alien noise disturbing the utter silence of his little cocoon of self-loathing and despair.

_Ignore them and they'll go away_, he thought to himself.

The knock came again.

_I'm not here._

Again.

_Take the fucking hint!_

A new noise: some shuffling, and then the unmistakable sound of a key in the door. He ran through the list of people who had keys to his apartment; that answer was a solid zero.

He squinted against the bright light of the hallway that invaded his dark space. He could barely make out her features between half-closed lids, but the way she walked, her gait, was unmistakable.

"Ugh, close the door," he mumbled, hiding his eyes in the crook of his arm. He heard her sigh deeply before closing and re-locking the door (a habit he assumed she picked up after living in a terrible neighbourhood for so long).

"Are you sick?" she asked, maintaining her position at the door.

"No," he mumbled into his arm. He didn't look back at her, but could hear her sliding her coat off and setting it, and the key she'd somehow obtained, on the kitchen counter, before making her way over to where he still lay. The couch dipped slightly under her weight. She sat in the groove created between his torso and legs. Her warmth invaded his body in a way that was not entirely unwelcome.

"What's going on?" her voice was very soft, as if she knew how his head pounded. His head stayed tucked in his arm. She rested her hand on top of it and stroked his hair. He would have paid her to never stop.

"Nothing."

"Have you been here all day?"

"Yea." He didn't bother looking—he could sense her frown. It didn't matter though, because she was still stroking his hair.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Jeff." He pulled his head out of his arm and squinted up at her. The moon hit the soft angles of her face giving her an almost ethereal glow. He wasn't totally prepared for the way that would make his chest hurt.

"How did you get in here?" he deflected.

"Britta told me where you keep your spare key," she explained. "Which is really dangerous, by the way. I could have been anyone coming in here to rob you, or attack you, or pee in your breadbox..."

"Pee in my breadbox?"

"Okay, maybe that only happens around Dildopolis, but still. Dangerous." He rolled his eyes and turned his face back into the crook of his arm.

"Point taken."

"Hey, no no no," she said, pushing her hand underneath his head and turning his face back to her. "I'm worried about you, Jeff. What's wrong with you?"

"I told you, nothing's wrong. I just needed a day off." He fought for a moment against her hand to return to the safety of his arm, but found it useless. Giving up, he pulled himself up into a seated position, stretching his legs out in front of him. It was the first time he'd sat up all day. It made him a little dizzy.

"Jeff, last time you took a day off for no reason, you spent the great majority of it at the Gap. I can tell by your hair and the odour emitting from your clothes that you haven't left this couch all day." He tried to keep a poker face, but couldn't help looking a little ashamed.

"You can't possibly know that."

"Of course I can. I'm a girl who's been dumped before—I know the sights and smells of a person who has become one with the couch."

"Okay, fine. I've been here all day. What's your point?"

"I'm worried about you."

"Well, don't be. I'm fine," he told her half-heartedly. She could tell she wasn't buying it. He considering keeping up the ruse, but it took too much energy, and he had none. "Okay, I'm not fine. I feel like shit—but whatever, it's not your problem." She frowned.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" He dropped his head, both because he found it hard to keep it up, and also because it was impossible to look at her without wanting to beg her to make him feel better.

"No, Annie. I'm..." he forced himself to look back up. "I'll be fine." He was powerless to stop himself from leaning into her touch as she shuffled a little closer and placed a hand on his cheek.

"It's okay to ask for help, you know."

"I don't think the help your offering is what I need."

"You never know unless you ask." He shook his head. "Please, Jeff. I hate seeing you like this. You don't even look like yourself right now."

"Annie..."

"No, I'm serious. You're one of my best friends. Please let me in. Please let me help you." His heart broke a little at her sincerity, but he didn't know what to say to her, so instead he just pulled her to him and held on, letting her envelop him in a hug that was simultaneously the most calming and most difficult he'd ever experienced.

"Anything you need. You just have to ask," she whispered into his ear. He closed his eyes and tightened his grip on her, willing her to never leave.

They stayed like that for a few minutes. Her hand found a steady rhythm against his back, and his unconsciously bunched in her shirt as he held on for dear life. All they could hear in the room was their breathing, which had fallen into sync.

Annie turned her face into the crook of his neck and placed a soft kiss there.

Jeff's breathing sped up minutely. Then more when she did it again.

Then she pulled away, and he sat up straighter, following the heat of her body as it backed away from him. She watched him follow her, and placed a hand over his heart, pushing him back down lightly.

"What if I need you?" he asked softly. He hadn't meant to say it, but was almost relieved to have it out. He watched her face as she contemplated this.

"Your heart's beating fast." She leaned down and replaced her hand with her mouth, kissing his chest lightly. From there, she kissed upward, to his collarbone, his neck, and just below his ear.

"Annie." Her name was barely a breath. He found her face with his hands and pulled her to his mouth, kissing her fully. She responded with a tenderness that he'd never really experienced. He almost wasn't sure what to do in response.

"If you need me, Jeff," she said, pulling away slightly. "I'll be yours. But only if it's real. I'm not here to scratch an itch for you." He swallowed hard, considering his options. He'd spent a lot of time convincing himself he couldn't, or shouldn't have her. And yet, when faced with the option in the darkness of his apartment, he couldn't deny either of them anymore. She was the medicine he needed. She could make him better.

He leaned forward and reclaimed her lips once more, pouring every unsaid word, every indescribable emotion into the kiss.

And as kissing became too little, he pulled her into his lap and they began to move together. Her hips met his through their clothes, dragging her center over his hardness and moaning at the feeling it gave her. His hands roamed her body freely in the way he'd always wanted to.

Soon, they began to remove the barriers that remained between them, and she lowered herself onto him, establishing the pace and moving in time to their breaths and moans.

He watched her dance on top of him, the moonlight illuminating her body just enough so he could make out her features. He took hold of her hips and pushed himself up into her, unwilling to let go of the heat and slickness that welcomed him. He felt his heart get lighter and lighter with each thrust as they both tumbled toward ecstasy together on the couch that was earlier his prison.

When she came around him, the feeling of her pulsing on him and her warmth surrounding him created an explosion within him, and he came with an unmatched intensity. With his release, he felt lighter, and as she collapsed on top of him and their slick bodies tangled together, he realized that he'd released more than just pent-up sexual tension. He felt content, in a way he was unfamiliar with.

He tangled his hand in her hair and held her tightly to him, unwilling to ever let that feeling go.

**End**

**A/N: Occupy the comments section!**


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